


coming home

by dandyholmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: "Accidental" Cuddling, Cuddling, First Kiss, John is Sherlock's pillow, Love Confessions, M/M, Moving In Together, Parentlock, Post-TFP, S4 fix-it, Sharing a Bed, bed sharing, post-s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandyholmes/pseuds/dandyholmes
Summary: John keeps falling asleep in Baker Street, and Sherlock decides to finally call him out on it.I wrote a ficlet on Tumblr and decided to continue it a bit further.





	

John falls asleep on the sofa one night after a long and exhausting case. Rosie’s with Mrs. H because he and Sherlock were out all day and she was gonna bake her cookies. (She’s almost 2 now, she can eat cookies. It amazes John, little things like that with Rosie.)

Sherlock comes out of the kitchen the next morning (must be 5:15, but he didn’t sleep at all) and sees John conked out on the sofa, just there. And it’s so simple. Of course John would fall asleep, he’s accidentally slept on the sofa before for midday naps with Rosie or for 20 minutes when they were working through the night and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. It’s not new. But he’s never slept all night and never not gone home. He was careful usually, wanted to make sure rosie went to bed in her room every night and or there was always something to do at home.

But no, John slept through the night. Sherlock decides not to mention it this time, but there’s weight in his chest that feels hopeful and melancholy.

The next time it happens, it’s in his chair and Sherlock notices within half an hour. He gets worried about John’s neck getting a crick in it, but he doesn’t want to wake him; he looks so peaceful. John doesn’t sleep through the night like that, though, wakes up a bit later and instead of taking the initiative to go home, he silently moves to the sofa and falls back asleep. Sherlock feels the weight come back again.

The third time it happens, John wakes up from the sofa with a sore back. His bed is still upstairs after all this time (”Not like i’m gonna rent it out to anyone else, really,” Mrs. Hudson had said), so he slugs up the stairwell and falls asleep there. Sherlock feels a spark of familiarity in it, yet wishes more than ever that their bedrooms could be on the same floor. John continues to sleep there most of the time, and says nothing of it. Rosie has a crib in Mrs. H’s flat. She’s safe.

John’s about to doze off on his chair again before Sherlock finally says, “You’ve been sleeping here more than you have been at your own flat, John.” His sleepy eyelids look up as his brow slowly furrows in confusion.

“D’you want me to go back there? To my. Flat?” His reluctance to call it home sticks out like a sore thumb.

“N-no, it’s fine, I just. Rosie has a crib here, you barely work at the surgery anymore except when they call you in every now and again, you’re sleeping here, I just thought that. I dunno, maybe you—” words are difficult.

“You want me to move back in?”

“Only if you’d like to, I-I don’t really know where rosie would go. She can’t stay with Mrs. Hudson forever but I don’t think your room could fit her forever, she’s getting bigger and it was a stupid idea anyway i—”

“I’d love to. Yes. I’d like to come home.” John smiles up at him from the sofa (Sherlock’s sat at his chair) and Sherlock can’t help but smile back. Home, John said. 221B is home. “We’ll figure it out.”

Indeed, they will.

* * *

 

The process of moving John back in goes fairly smoothly, and they avoid the question of where John and Rosie will sleep for as long as possible. So much so that they are bringing some of John’s extra things into Sherlock’s room (more space) and John lies down for a moment after a long day of hauling things into 221B, only to accidentally fall asleep. On Sherlock’s bed.

Sherlock notices almost instantly and panics. _I mean I don’t have to sleep anyway I guess but GOD am I tired maybe I could? Sleep in his bed? That’s weird. He’ll think THIS is weird whenever he wakes up oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god._

He stops himself, takes a breath, and realizes that John is curled mostly into a ball at this point on the far left side of the bed. ⅔ of the bed are completely clear. Sherlock sighs in relief, _calm down, calm down,_ puts away the last few things they brought down, turns off the lights, and sits on the right side of the bed to take off his shoes. Lies down, facing right, with all his clothes still on and lets his eyes shut out of exhaustion. Something about John’s weight on the other side of the bed is comforting as he falls asleep.

—

John’s eyes flicker open and he feels warm. Safe. Comfortable. Before he notices anything else, he notices the light of the morning seeping in through the small window in Sherlock’s bedroom. **Sherlock’s bedroom.** _Shitshitshitshitshit._ Quickly, though, he realizes the far more embarrassing part of this situation. He’s lying on his back, and Sherlock is half on top of him. His right arm is wrapped around Sherlock’s torso, tight, and his head is nuzzled against John’s chest with his right arm around John’s front. They must have accidentally ended up this way after they fell asleep. John initially panics, thinking of Sherlock’s potentially visceral reaction and what might come of it.

But then he realizes just how _comfortable_ he actually is. He hasn’t slept this comfortably in WEEKS, months maybe. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be this close to Sherlock, too, but he’s horrified of what he would say if he found them in this state. Especially if he knew just how vulnerable and small he looks. John resists the urge to push some of Sherlock’s unruly hair away from his face to see it more clearly. Instead, he settles in, not wanting to move from this spot for as long as possible. He’s comfortable and can’t move without waking Sherlock, who hasn’t slept this long in quite some time. It would be selfish to get up, right?

After a few moments of silently lying there, about to doze back off again in the comfort of this situation, John feels Sherlock shift above him and his breaths become faster and shallower. He’s waking up.

It takes Sherlock slightly less time than John to realize their physical situation and the silence is unbearably loud in John’s ears. But, Sherlock doesn’t pull away or move, he actually relaxes after a moment. Then, before John even knows what’s happening, Sherlock Holmes nuzzles more into his chest and squeezes just barely at John’s torso with his right arm that’s currently draped across him. John realizes he’s currently being treated as a pillow, and he’s ok with that.

“Sherlock,” John pushes out finally. He doesn’t know why. Make sure he knows he’s awake? Reassurance that _this_ is ok?

“Mm,” he mumbles out in response against John’s front. “What?”

“Y-you don’t, er, mind?”

He feels Sherlock tense underneath him a bit. _Oh god._ But then he relaxes a bit and looks up at John with a soft expression.

“ _You_ don’t?” Sherlock looks more confused than John thought he would.

John swallows, “No,” he pauses, “I don’t.” He feels his voice shrink.

Sherlock lets out a relieved breath and moves his head back to its original position, nodding slightly.

“Could we,” Sherlock starts and retreats for a second. “Maybe, er, stay like this? Just for a minute.”

John’s heart leaps in his chest. He wonders if Sherlock could hear it. “Yeah, yeah I think I’d like that.”

Sherlock lets out another sigh and sinks into John. It’s still early in the morning and they’re both being pulled down by their own sleepiness and comfort. John feels his heartbeat quicken and he swears he can hear it in his ears. He’s _holding_ Sherlock. He’s holding Sherlock is his arms as they lay in bed together on a Sunday morning after moving all of his things back into Baker Street in March when the dew drops are still forming outside and it feels absolutely _wonderful._

What they’re doing here is not what friends do, is it? I mean, it’s Sherlock and maybe Sherlock doesn’t know how friends work and maybe John doesn’t either but. John’s never heard of other people doing this with their best friends, and Sherlock’s more than just a best friend. He’s family, right? Sherlock thinks John is family, apparently. He’s a single father about to move into a flat with another single man so he can have someone to raise his daughter with. That’s not something “just friends” do, is it?

“Sherlock? Can I tell you something if you… if you promise not to run away?” John gulps.

Sherlock does not move from his spot and simply says, “I can’t imagine running from you, John.”

John feels another leap in his chest before, “I think I’m in love with you.” He feels it exit the safety of his thoughts like a punch.

Sherlock is frozen. For about 5 seconds, and then he lets out his breath in a quiet sigh. His breathing is faster than before John confessed. John can feel Sherlock’s eyelids blinking rapidly against the thin fabric of his shirt. Another leap in his chest. 20 seconds have past with no words, but Sherlock has not moved.

“I-I think I’m in love with you too, John.” John stops breathing for a moment, then remembers he must keep breathing because he lives in a world where Sherlock Holmes loves him back.

“How long?” John asks. Sherlock finally looks up at him.

He adjusts a bit so their faces are on the same level. They are looking each other in the eye, and John feels electricity surge through his entire body. “From the very start, John. Always.”

John’s swears his chest may burst. They keep their arms around each other’s waists and they’re touching almost completely from the torso down. “I love you, Sherlock.”

“I love you, John.”

He looks into Sherlock’s eyes, “Have we finally stopped running away from each other?”

“I never meant to run from you. _”_ Sherlock glances over John’s face. John watches him attentively and swears he’s never seen anyone so beautiful. There’s an underlying sense of sadness there, though. John looks all over Sherlock’s face, away from his eyes because if he looks for too long it’s too much.

“It’s ok, it was an accident,” he tries to push out a smile, “I don’t think we knew we were doing it, huh,” John’s voice is 60% breath now and he puts his forehead against Sherlock’s, closes his eyes. Sherlock lets out a shaky breath.

“I never want to run from you again,” Sherlock’s voice is quiet and small. Delicate. Wonderful.

“Sherlock, can I,” breathe in, breathe out, “Can I kiss you, Sherlock?”

“Please,” Sherlock lets out a whisper. A wish.

John leans in just enough and kisses him and the world holds still for a moment as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are finally kissing one another after all this time. John feels his heart skip a beat. Sherlock holds John’s face in his hand. After holding still _just there_ for a moment John pulls away and rests his forehead against Sherlock’s again. _Too much._ Both of their eyes are closed.

“John…” barely a whisper. A beg? Just needs to say it? Both?

“I love you so much, Sherlock Holmes,” the quietest, most desperate voice. A plea. “I’ve always, always loved you.”

“I never stopped, John,” amazement in his tone, amazed he can actually say it. They hold each other unbearably close.

Another kiss. And another. Mixed with mumbled, _I love you’_ s and other sweet nothings while they don’t let the other go.

The world has seemed to stop as they have found each other in this moment now, in this bed, in this room, in this flat. Waiting so long, aching, running, dying, all of it culminated in this moment of revelation. And they never want to let it go.

—

They decide that Rosie can have the room upstairs to herself from now on. Sherlock and John won’t be needing two bedrooms.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://dandyholmes.tumblr.com)


End file.
